


Charmer

by Zarigueya



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drunk Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hook-Up, M/M, flirty mccree best mccree, implicit sex, post christmas comic, smitten Hanzo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 10:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarigueya/pseuds/Zarigueya
Summary: Hanzo takes a look at the man next to him: disheveled chocolate hair, half face pressed against the pillow, lips parted ever so slightly as a tongue darts out to moisture his lips.His face burns when a sudden memory of where that tongue had been last night hits him.





	Charmer

**Author's Note:**

> My [twitter.](http://www.twitter.com/possssum)

 

There's this moment, when he wakes up, after a flutter of eyelashes, where there's a split-second of peace until he remembers.

 

And then it all comes back. Even the pain.

 

Not physically --not anymore at least: the wounds are closed and Hanzo got big ugly scars to remember--, but the weight that seizes on his chest trigger a biological cascade that makes his heart ache. Maybe it still physically hurts, but it’s not as painful as it used to be.

 

This time, however, he feels an unusual stinging sensation on his back and a acute pain on his hips when he tries to move. It’s just then, after blinking several times, that he realizes he is not on the room where he was staying. Supporting his weight on the palm of his hands and rising his head, Hanzo takes a careful look at his surroundings: The lack of light due to the ugly closed curtains, several beer cans lying on the floor, the clothing trail that leads to the bed…

 

_“Dear God.”_

  
It’s just then when he realizes he should have look at the other side, where there was a stranger -a **_man_ ** \- deeply asleep.

 

_“Dear. God.”_

 

He rests his face back on the pillow, sighing as quietly as he can.

 

Why there was a man sleeping next to him? Where were _his_ clothes? Why his pelvis hurt so much? Just how _old_ was he? That wasn’t the kind of behavior expected from a Shimada! Despite the path the clan took, he wanted to restore its name.

 

… hooking up with a stranger wasn’t exactly the way to do it.

 

The last thing he remembered was arriving that new small town on Christmas day, getting cake for a kid while he listened to couples and families celebrate and then hitting the bar by himself.

 

_And then..._

 

He runs a hand through his hair, feeling a headache ground into his temples. What is done is done, he always believed in that. He made many mistakes and this, somehow, wasn’t the worst. But it was better to leave as soon as he could, no matter how cowardly that could make him look.

Hanzo takes a look at the man next to him: disheveled chocolate hair, half face pressed against the pillow, lips parted ever so slightly as a tongue darts out to moisture his lips.

His face burns when a sudden memory of where that tongue has been last night hits him.

 

Quietly getting off the bed, Hanzo rushes to pick his clothes and get dressed as fast as he can, ignoring the hickeys across his body and the ache in his lower back. A click comes to his ears and he catches by the corner of his eyes the gleam of a gun. Adrenaline triggers on his blood and despite his numb senses he is able to retrieve his bow to nock and arrow with a swift movement, just as the man on the bed pointed a gun at him.

 

Their eyes meet and Hanzo feels a shiver run down his spine; the black irises melt into the warm hazel of his eyes, making him look feral, so diferent to the sleepy figure he just had sleeping next to him. Looking at each other, neither of them move until the stranger blinks, then dropping the gun and scratching the back of his head. “Oh, it was you.”

 

Hanzo takes longer to put down his bow and arrow, almost expecting that stranger to shoot at him. Distrust saved his life several times so he finds hard to trust on anyone, no matter how close they could get to him. His reaction is apparently comical, because the brunette laughs, then shows the palm of his hands. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t point my gun at you ever again, I promise.”

 

“Why should I believe you?” Hanzo inquiries, slowly putting down his bow but ready to shot if necessary.

 

The stranger rolls his eyes, looking exhausted. “I just banged you, pumpkin... Why would I kill you?”

 

Feeling his ears burn, Hanzo turns around and walks towards the door. “Wow, wow, wait! Where are you going, Hanzo?”

 

“I’m leaving.” Hanzo holds the door knob, stopping when he realizes how the stranger called him. He faces the man, blinking several times “Do you know my name?”

 

Getting off the bed as well to pick his clothes -Hanzo has to shift his eyes away, refusing to look more than necessary, no matter how intimate they got the last night- , the man chuckles, his broad shoulder shaking.“Don’t you remember anythin'? Though, you did drank a lot of liquor.” As he dresses up, Hanzo notices the scratches across his tanned arms and flushes, guessing he is probably the one to blame for those marks. “I’m Jesse  Mccree, by the way.” He says, settling a cowboy hat over his head before outstretching a hand towards him. “Though I did introduced myself last night.” He adds, withdrawing his hand when he realizes Hanzo has no intention to shake hands, as if he got some kind of disease. That doesn't seem to offend him though. “Are you hungry? Allow me to get you you somethin' to eat.”

“I should go now.” Hanzo insists, biting his bottom lip, looking down at his feet. “I don’t feel comfortable.”

 

“Oh no, no, darlin'. You _did_ feel comfortable. Just take your time to remember.” Mccree pats his back with a big hand, leaning to whisper on his ear “Maybe you can get another _ride_.”

 

Before Hanzo could shoot an arrow through his skull --a very, _very_ , tempting thought by that moment--, Mccree leaves the room to get breakfast, leaving a very flustered bowman about to burst out.

 

* * *

 

“I’m gonna assume you didn’t cook this.”

 

Holding a greasy paper bag and a cup of something that looked like coffee, Mccree leanes against the frame of the door of the kitchen, probably thinking he looks alluring --he doesnt, Hanzo says to himself--.

 

The cowboy arches an eyebrow. “I said I was _gettin' breakfast_ , not _makin'_ you breakfast.” He pulls a wry half smile, half lidded eyes fixed on the archer. “Maybe for the second date.”

 

“If you are trying to pull off the gentleman act, you are not doing a good job.” Hanzo groans, making the cowboy laugh louder.

 

“That grumpy attitude is dorable, ‘ya know?” He threw the bag to Hanzo and gently settles the cup of coffee on the table. “I’m so glad I got on your pants.”

 

And Hanzo can't believe how he did it. That isn't his life style: getting drunk, sleep with a stranger--one that was far away from his ideal of a potential partner- on room that resembles a dumpster and then being feed with some cheap burguer and a coffee that tasted like boiled dirt. It's insane. It's something that Genji--

 

His stomach burns at the thought and he almost chokes on his coffee.

 

“Careful, it's hot.” Mccree warns, pulling a napkin from his pocket and offering it to his guest. Hanzo clumsily grabs the napkin, being careful enough to not touch Mccree on the process, and cleans his face. Mccree snorts, again showing no resentment due Hanzo's flint-hearted mannerisms, resting his face on the palm of his hand. He stares at the archer, the edges of his lips curved up. "'You okay?”

 

“I don’t think so.” Hanzo spits, fingertips twitching. It freaks him out how easy is to feel triggered by the simple memory of Genji. 

 

“You got the same face that him.” Mccree rests his back on the chair, throwing his head back, fixing his hat so it wouldn't fall. “Your brother.”

 

It completely wakes him up and he gets up so fast the chair grinds and slams his hands on the table, startling the cowboy.

 

Mccree looks up at him with his pretty caramel eyes, apparently waiting for him to speak. Pale and gaping, throat dry, it takes Hanzo a moment to actually say something.

 

“Do… you know him?”

 

Tilting his head to the side, the brunette flashes a fondly smile. “ 'f course, sugar… that’s why I know who you are.”

 

Heart pounding hard against his ribcage, Hanzo feels his world tremble. He drops himself back on the chair when his legs shake and looks at the empty space, waiting for Mccree to speak.

 

Lighting up a cigarette, the cowboy takes a moment before start speaking, searching for the right words despite his coarse language. “I worked with him… with your brother. And if you ask yourself, yes, that’s how I managed to get your attention last night.”

 

The small pieces of memories start to build up a whole scene on his mind and Hanzo finally remembers: The cake with bright red strawberries, the bar full of people at mightnight, the smell of tabaco lingering on the air, a stranger who got close and asks if he wants a drink, the mention of his brother when he rejects his offer. _“You and Genji look alike.”_

 

“Do you know…?" Hanzo breaths, licking his lips before continue "Do you know where is he?", he finishes. 

 

Mccree looks at him with something very close to pity, something that siezes Hanzo's heart. That's works as an answer to his question, yet Mccree makes sure to bring it to words “I don’t know.” he answers with a soft voice, incredible soft for a man of his age “That’s the first thing you asked me yesterday.” He sighs loudly, completely aware of the weight his words “I’m sorry.”

 

The words hang on the air and for several minutes, the only audible sound is the “tic toc” of an old clock hanging on the wall of the badly painted kitchen.

 

Mccree starts telling, between puffs of his cig, the same story he shared last night on his room: his old job on Blackwatch, how he met Genji, some of the adventures they shared -from time to time he is able to get a smile from Hanzo, when he mentions how reckless Genji was sometimes, resembling the childhood version the archer got printed on his memory- and ends with his disappearance previous to the disassembly of the organization. By the time he is done talking, the coffee is cold and the sun is set, filling the kitchen with an orange light that leaks through the only window of the room.

 

“Are you lookin' for him, righ'?”

 

“I don’t know…” Hanzo rubs his temples. “I want to see him and, at the same time…”

 

“He loves you.”

 

Hanzo lets out a bitter laugh, his voice bouncing on the walls, insides twisting painfully. He looks at his own hands, the same hands he used to _hurt_ his brother, and thinks how alien they look to him. "I don’t think so… he may have forgive me, but I don’t think he loves me.”

 

“He still got that photo.”

 

Slowly lifting his gaze, Hanzo meets Mcree's eyes. The sunlight bathes his face, drawing shadows on his tanned skin, making his eyes glow so bright Hanzo's heart skip a beat. Holding his breath withouth realizing it, he quickly looks away, almost scared. Almost.

 

“What?”

 

“The one of you two in Hanamura.” Mccree crosses his arms, eyelids falling, depriving Hanzo from his light. “He still got that photo on took it with him when he left.” He flashes a smile, the kind of smile he probably used to seduce woman. “Now, I may not look smart, but I’m damn good at tellin' when there is love. And I’m sure as hell, because of the way your brother looked at that photo, that he loved you and still does.” Squinting an eye open, the edges of his lips curve up “Also, if I might add: you look hot with long hair.” He purs, winking suggestively.

 

Until that moment, Hanzo had been slowly building up the memories of last night and what lead to that encounter. Though there was still a missing piece: how that man, how that stranger that lacked of class, who lacked of manners, who lived on a small and messy place, managed to seduce him.

 

For the first time on the night, Hanzo smiles. 

 

He's got a way with words.

 

**Author's Note:**

> “Why are you following me?”
> 
> Hanzo stops, looking over his shoulder. 
> 
> Mccree shrugs, hands on his pockets. “I want to help you to look for your brother.”
> 
> “How do you know that’s what I’m planning to do?” Hanzo inquires, genuinely curious. After eating, he thanked Mccree for his hospitality -sincerely- and left without sharing his thoughts.
> 
> “Well, that’s obvious.” Mccree settles a hand on his shoulder, squeezing hard. “I want to help you, sugar. I also would like to say hi and see how Genji is doin'.” Mccree then steps back and holds his chin, looking up, calculating. “Also to see his reaction when he sees you with this new look. Piercings and a jacket? I’m pretty sure he will be shocked.”
> 
> Cheeks burning, Hanzo curses under his breath the fact that there is a man capable of embarrass him so easily. 
> 
> He hopes he can get used to it.


End file.
